dened. A laugh, dry and brittle as dead leaves, escaped her lips. The sound was so unexpected, so out of

gaze moved from one face to the next, seeing them not as family,

, her voice flat. "Because you'll never forget that your mother was just the mis

rious red. "You shut up! You lie!" s

"playing the part of the gracious, tolerant matriarch. When in reality, you've been prayi

tightened, the mask of el

, devastating scorn. "You never loved your daughters. You loved what we represented. Isabelle was yo

refully constructed facades,

identity as the patriarch, was being challenged by the daughter h

acked acros

na's head snapped to the side, a fiery sting spreading across her skin. A

o face him, her eyes as cold and dead as a winter lake. That slap had sev

word precise and final, "I, Seraphina Re

not let them see her crumble. She walked out of the house, out o

downpour began without warning, the rain cold and hard as pellets of ice. I

crushing ache from the night before, the years of accumulated misery-it all came crashi

could hear the screech of tires, a bla

mit. Her consciousness fray

ht, onto the wet, bla

the blinding glare of hea

er, was her final,

, no